


A Quiet Kind of Carnage

by koschillski



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dark!Rey, F/M, FBI Agent Ben Solo, Light!Ben Solo, Modern Reylo AU, Reylo - Freeform, Serial Killer Rey, Star Wars AU, choo choo all aboard the angst train, get ready for a wild ride of murder!!!, it's a game of cat and mouse, plus a little side of homicide, pretty much a hannibal au so...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koschillski/pseuds/koschillski
Summary: Special Agent Ben Solo of the FBI has been called down to the city of Coruscant to help aid the Coruscant City Police Department, led by their infamously cruel Chief Snoke, in catching a serial killer that seems always be one step ahead. Practically taunting them. This killer better be caught quickly or else...Yet with each murder, Ben finds himself slowly getting to know this killer everyone's so desperate to find. He sees what no one else sees, and is growing more and more desperate to see the killer's true face behind the puzzles and gruesome clues left behind. Is it because He wants the killer to face justice, or could it be because of something more?Little does know that he's being watched as well. And let's just say... she likes what she sees.





	A Quiet Kind of Carnage

**Author's Note:**

> major warnings for graphic depictions of murder and dead bodies in this fic, that's gonna be a reoccurring theme... so brace yourself, dear reader, if this isn't normally your cup of tea. 
> 
> enjoy!

“Guessing you’ve never seen anything like this before when you were at the Bureau, huh, Solo?”

The wind began to pick up then, the beginning chills of autumn cutting through his flimsy jacket. It was late October and with each passing day, you could practically feel winter slowly inching closer and closer. He stuck his hands in his pockets, suppressing a shiver.

“I’m familiar with murder, sir, but this…” Ben said slowly, before tearing his eyes away from the scene in front of him, “This is something else entirely.”

The chief, a hardened man by the name of Snoke, made a noncommittal sound as he crossed his arms.

The older man was staring at Ben, opting to scrutinize the unfamiliar FBI agent while avoiding having to look upon the crime scene more than necessary. In that aspect, Ben almost agreed with him.

Almost.

Ben had been analyzing the ever growing file during his flight, determined not to miss a single detail. With each murder, the killer began getting bolder. That was pretty predictable for serial killers, but what irked Ben the most was that it didn’t follow the usual pattern. The killings didn’t begin to happen more frequently. And the unsub didn’t start upping the stakes of potentially getting caught either, which almost always was the case. (The phrase “the thrill of the kill” didn’t ring true for nothing.)

But _this_ killer was almost methodically consistent. Same type of victims, all men, from the ages of forty to sixty-five, seemingly unrelated in anyway, on the receiving end of multiple stab wounds to the stomach and chest area, tied and hung up with rope to be found by the police. Yet with each kill, the unsub got more showy, more theatrical.

Firmus Piett, the third and most recent victim, until last night, was found at the edge of a property in the woods outside of town. Its owner used the log cabin there sparingly, mainly for the occasional hunting trip and had happened upon the body by chance. So it was unclear how long the body had been there for, the natural progression of decay already taking its toll by the time police had been notified.

He had been mounted on the branches of the ancient looking trees that lined the property, stripped naked besides a gaudy crown of dark thorns. Piett was adorned with a multitude of thorny vines that wrapped viciously around his outstretched hands and feet, which happened either right before or after his heart stopped beating due to the cuts and the dripping blood from where the vines were wrapped around. Piett’s face was the most memorable of the victims, where the others were blank and unseeing, his was constructed in extreme anguish. Ben could practically hear the man’s screams echoing in his mind as he looked at the photos. It was gruesome, the religious imagery blatant. It was as if he was brutally rising from the dirt to his own terror, similar to a child being brought into the world; covered in blood and screaming. How ironic that Piett should have his life ended in the same way as it began.

This wasn’t the work of an amateur. It was nothing like he had ever seen before, and Ben found that he couldn’t look away. When he closed his eyes, the images swam back and forth in his mind. The gray, unseeing eyes of the victims staring back at him. Demanding to be seen.

It probably wasn’t healthy either, the fervency with which he looked at the crime scene photos. He couldn’t help throwing himself head first into the case without a backward glance. Ben knew it was a bad habit of his, one that he had been told many times to “get in check” by Director Holdo.

“You get too close,” she would say, “One day I’m afraid that you’ll look for too long and end up breaking.”

She never spoke the words out loud, but they both could feel the “or worse” hanging in the hair between them.

But getting too close was part of his job description. It was up to him to be able to bare it, to look where others could not, to be able to gaze upon the ugly and cruel carnage of the world and decipher the clues left behind. Ben wasn’t too concerned for his own state of mind or well being, what really worried him was when the day came that the void he peered into so often opened its eyes and stared back at him.

The wind began to pick up more, the metallic smell of an oncoming thunderstorm filled the air.

“Do we know who the victim is yet?” Ben asked one of the younger officers already on the scene, his face pale and clammy looking despite his darker coloring.

“Um, uh…” the kid stuttered, his nervousness palpable. He didn’t look that old, maybe mid-twenties, and his uniform and badge still had a fresh gleam to it. Ben wondered if this was his first case out in the field. _Poor kid. _

“Look, make this quick Solo,” Snoke barked, making the officer jump with his gruffness. “This is going to be a shitstorm of paperwork to deal with already without your little mind tricks. Update me when you’re done with… whatever it is you do.” He gestured towards the crime scene. Leaving Ben and the young officer alone, Snoke lumbered off to the edge of the clearing they were in, mumbling something about “crowd control” and “Mitika not doing his damned job”.

Ben eyed the growing curious crowd behind the yellow crime scene tape. It wouldn’t be long until the media and news stations got word of the murder, and they would undoubtably show up in no time.

_What a nightmare that would be_, Ben thought.

After ten years of investigating murders and serial killers you would think that that would be the most annoying part, but Ben thought that, without a doubt, dealing with the frenzied and suffocating media reporters was the worst part of his job.

Turning back to the officer, Ben took pity on him. “First case?” He asked, a small smile of understanding on his lips.

“Is it that obvious?” The kid chuckled, some of the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. “I’m Finn, by the way.”

“Ben, nice to meet you.” Shaking hands, the men began walking towards the body. At least, what was left of it.

“Have you ever seen anything like this? Working for the FBI, I’m sure you’ve seen loads of stuff…” Finn trailed off, looking to Ben for some kind of answers.

“To be completely honest, no, not really. But, I wouldn’t have come down here if I didn’t think I could catch this guy.” Ben stated, crossing his arms.

The body was staged up against one of the smaller trees that dotted the field they were in, the arms and legs posed stiffly in place with what looked like rope. Like the other victims, this one was also stripped naked. But what was presumably his head was no longer attached to his body. It rested on a silver platter that was attached to his hand. The victim’s mouth was open, an array of flowers spilling out onto the plate that descended down his outstretched arm. A similar cluster of flora had been placed where the man’s head should’ve been, blooming for all the world to see.

It was morbid. It was shocking. It was… breathtaking.

“Cause of death may have been the multiple stab wounds to the chest, similar to the other victims, but that’ll be determined once we get the official autopsy. We’re still waiting on a hit from the DNA samples we sent in to the lab to know for sure who this poor dude is,” Finn began, looking over his notes as he caught Ben up with the details. “But we did find some of what we think are his belongings discarded about a mile from here, including his ID.

” Finn handed him the evidence bag in question, containing the state issued ID for one Amos Datoo. “Any prints?” Finn shook his head.

Stepping closer to the body, he braced himself for the smell. It wasn’t as pungent as some of the others he’s seen in his career, but a dead body was a dead body. Rotting flesh wasn’t a scent that anyone could really get used to. It tended to linger.

“Whatever this man was, the killer thought he was poisonous.” Ben remarked, tilting his head. The Datoo’s eyes looked slightly moist. Like even after death, his body wept after the fate he had been dealt. Interesting.

“Why’d you say that?” Finn seemed surprised.

“The flowers. They’re all incredibly poisonous to the human body. The killer not only thought this man spouted toxic things, but that this poisonous nature was also inside of him as well.” He explained, gesturing to the placements of the flowers.

“I’m also gonna go out on a limb and say that our killer has a tiny obsession with religion. The last murder was a clear mirror image of someone being crucified for their ‘sins’ per se. But this one isn’t as obvious, the reference subtly hiding itself behind the ostentatious nature of the kill.”

“Reference?” Finn questioned, his eyes wide.

Ben nodded, circling the body for any other details. “The famous painting by Caravaggio, of Salome holding the head of John the Baptist. There are many debated perspectives on the purpose of it, but the belief is fairly widespread that Salome is the one at fault for the prophet's assassination.”

“But, this guy is the one holding his own head. Does that make him Salome? Or John?”

Ben looked back at Finn, brightness in his eyes. “Exactly. It’s what the killer wants us to figure out.”

* * *

The ride back to the station was one of the most tense car rides of Ben's life, and he had been in the back seat during one of the many fights his parents got into. He knew bad. But this, sitting with Snoke at the wheel in utter silence? Absolute torture.

It was clear as day; this particular case had managed to worm its way under Snoke’s wrinkled skin. It was men like him who enforced the status quo and did the intimidating, not the other way around. But the simple fact was that he was indeed intimidated.

And the old man didn’t like that fact, not one bit.

"You better have something good for me when we get back, Agent Solo," Snoke said venomously, sparing a glare in his direction, "or this will be a huge waist of time. We wouldn't want _that_, now would we?"

Ben stayed silent for a moment, holding steady under Snoke’s steely gaze. What was it that Snoke was threatened by? Could it just be caused by Ben’s presence? Not unlikely. His size and stature alone made him a figure most people thought twice about taking lightly. He had always been a tall kid, standing at over six foot by the time he entered high school. But it was during his time at Quantico that Ben was really able to fill out, the physical ability requirements of the new recruits being as high as they were. Although, he was the first to admit that he did far more than what was expected of him at the time; exercising and lifting weights had become a sort of catharsis for him. Whenever there was something on his mind or when the stress of the curriculum felt more suffocating than usual, Ben found himself in the gym. It quieted his mind, the mind numbingly repetitiveness a sort of comfort.

Or could it be that Snoke saw his position at the Bureau as a threat to his power? That option was also likely. It wasn’t uncommon for local PD to tend to become a bit on edge when the FBI got involved in their cases, even if they themselves asked for the help in the first place.

And the fact that Ben didn’t technically answer to Snoke undoubtedly ruffled the old man’s feathers. He was clearly accustomed to being the undisputed figure of authority, unsure of how to proceed with someone else giving the orders and taking the lead, even if it was on such a gruesome case.

That led to the third, and most likely in Ben’s mind, possibility as to why the esteemed chief of police had his hackles raised… this case truly scared him.

Ben’s heart began to thump faster in excitement. There had been instant hesitation by his superiors when Ben had officially put in the request to be the agent sent in to help the investigation. A series of brutal, almost theatrical killings in the Corusca sector, led by the notoriously famous Coruscant City Police Department. Of course he was aware of the atmosphere he was volunteering to enter and stay in for the foreseeable future. Even a socially-inept hermit like him had heard the rumors. All the whispers and hushed murmurings about how suffocating, yet ridiculously effective the iron fist of the CCPD Chief of Police were notorious. They were more mafia than police force.

But it was one thing to just hear about someone’s reputation, and another thing entirely to see it in person. Snoke maintained order in his precinct through simple fear and aggression, barking orders to officers and making examples of any who opposed his tyrannical-like command with almost unnecessary malice. He had been on the force for over forty years, fifteen of those years spent as the head dog, an undisputed leader who Ben imagined was feared more than respected by those he commanded.

Ben had heard once that the reason the crime rate in such a populated and bustling city like Coruscant was so low was because of Snoke. A man his age would understandably beginning to show signs of becoming senile, not striking fear into the hearts of citizens and criminals alike.

That is, all besides one criminal.

This cold blooded killer had eluded the likes of t_hem_ so effectively and for so long, that the CCPD had to resort to reaching out to the FBI for help.

To be able to work a case like this was a once in a lifetime chance, the thing was practically fucking gift wrapped. Waiting for someone to solve it. Someone like him.

Ben had lunged for the chance to take the assignment, his boss mistakenly attributing his eagerness for the case to the close-proximity of Ben’s home to the city. It was a perk, most definitely, since Ben hadn’t been home to see his parents since last Christmas. But if anyone knew what the importance of work was and understood his absence, it was his mother. She would understand if he didn’t make it back home for the holidays again. Not so much his father, but that was a different issue altogether. What really sparked his interest was the case details themselves.

It had been a few months prior, when Ben happened to see the news story about a murder in Coruscant air on TV. He had been waiting to board a flight from Alaska back to Virginia, still slightly riding the emotional high of helping close such a high profile case as that of the infamous Star Base Killer.

If he was being completely honest, he nearly missed it entirely. The fact that he did happen to catch it was pure chance.

At the time of the first killing, no one gave it a second thought. It had just been a passing sound byte running across the bottom of the screen, ‘BODY FOUND IN CORUSCANT, POSSIBLE ONE-TIME-KILLING OR THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY?’. The bolded letters went by completely unnoticed as the news anchors blabbered on and on about the Star Base Killer as they displayed his mugshot, the maniac’s toothy grin wide and hollow eyes looking out as they mindlessly discussed the details of the case. The ones that were released to the public, at least. But that didn’t matter, because Ben _saw_ it.

He waited until he read and reread the tiny news banner, his eyes locked on it as it moved across the screen. Something felt… off. When he had verified that it was actually real, and not some sort of figment of his imagination, he shot a glance over to his partner on the Star Killer case was sitting across from him.

Phasma was a terrifying woman. She stood just as tall and as menacing as him, her white blonde hair kept cropped short that curled slightly, and whose cold and unyielding stare could make even the hardest of criminals crack and nearly piss themselves under it. Hell, he had seen it happen first hand in person. She was definitely not a person you wanted to piss off. Ben let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. Her attention had been entirely focused on the open book in her hands, not even batting an eye at the news. Of course she hadn’t noticed. Why would she have been paying attention as they sat in silence, waiting for their late night flight to board?

But Ben had noticed.

He shouldn’t be surprised. It was a sort of speciality of his, being able to notice the things that the majority tended to overlook.

_You notice them because you were one of those discarded things yourself. _

Something inside him had either clicked together, or maybe had broken apart, he wasn’t sure. But something was different… there had been a shift. Ben wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but his instincts told him that he needed to be in the middle of it.

Phasma merely raised an eyebrow when Ben practically ran to his seat on the plane when they boarded. His leg didn’t stop bouncing the entire three in a half hours they were up in the air.

* * *

It took more time than Ben would’ve liked to fully convince Director Holdo to give in and let him take the assignment. He practically had to resort to using a PowerPoint slideshow listing the reasons why he should be the one to go, the Director rolling her eyes the good heartedly the entire time. But, she eventually gave in.

“Fine, take the damn case,” Holdo sighed, pinching the bridge in between her nose in mock annoyance. “Just hurry up and get out of my office, I have work to do.”

Ben could feel this face split into a smirk. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” he preened, turning to begin his preparations to leave.

He stopped when Director Holdo called out his name, her eyes edged with genuine worry. “Be careful out there Ben, and I don’t mean just with that killer. I’ve heard nothing but bad things about that snake they have for a chief.”

“I’ve seen and dealt with worse, Director. But I appreciate the concern,” Ben said seriously. He had known Holdo for a long time, something that wasn’t necessarily normal for a Federal Bureau Director and their agent, thanks to his unique upbringing.

“Besides,” he remarked, turning on his heel, “I know how to handle old men on a power trip. Perks of growing up with a mother in politics.”

Ben waved as he walked away, anticipation bubbling in his chest.

At the time, he knew that this case would be life changing. But the extent to which it would turn his whole life upside down was something that no one could predict. Not even Ben.

**Author's Note:**

> what did y'all think?? i'd love to read your comments and ideas on what could happen next!


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